An Angel and Her Hero
by JustAScruffyLookingNerfHerder
Summary: On the anniversary of Overwatch's fall, Angela remembers the Hero that she's lost. Basically just your typical Mercy 76. Inspiration from CorvidFeather's work "Unfinished", some minor gore (will be marked in the chapters) and a cute friendship between Winston and Zarya. Reviews, criticisms and comments much appreciated.
1. Fond Remembrance

It is the anniversary of Overwatch's fall. Throughout the world, heroes are mourned. Including within newly recalled Overwatch itself.

Author note: _There is a bit of gore/reference to PTSD. I took the idea of Mercy and Jack's early life from the author CorvidFeathers and their work "Unfinished", please give them a read when you can. That idea involves Mercy having a bit of a rough childhood, to say the least._

* * *

Today was a solemn day throughout the world. A day representing a loss of innocence, a loss of hope.

A loss of heroes.

In the years since the fall of Overwatch, its members had mourned in their own ways, often at the memorials which dotted the globe. Today, however, was the first anniversary of the fall since the group had been recalled. The group gathered, sharing stories in a mixture of melancholy and hope, remembering the fallen as they looked to the future. Subdued laughter and personal stories flowed between them, as the team's members drew strength from one another.

Except, Winston noted with a worried eye, Mercy. As the hours passed and the day drew to a close, he noticed how little the team's medic seemed to be interacting with others, content to sit alone save the briefest interruption when Tracer offered her a drink. The Pilot's worried glance to Winston when Mercy's favorite, a peach mimosa, was refused told him everything he needed to know. Absentmindedly complimenting Reinhardt on the exaggerated details of his story, Winston resolved to talk to her in private.

* * *

"Mercy."

"Winston." She replied, not looking up as he settled next to her as quietly as a hulking, genetically enhanced ape was able to settle. The hall was deserted now, and he keenly felt his deep voice in the silence.

"Is everything alright? You seem to be …oh".

In Mercy's hands was a crumpled picture of her and Jack.

For a long while, the two were silent. Winston wracked his brain for something to say to comfort the woman, who so rarely seemed fazed by anything.

"You must miss him terribly" he settled with, hoping for the best.

"Would it help to talk about it? Perhaps ….perhaps the happy memories could help."

Finally she looked up. Sad eyes peered up at him, and for a moment Winston feared he'd only made it worse.

"Yes, mein Freund… perhaps it would. Thank you. Today was harder than I expected." Looking down at the photo again, she breathed out a sad sigh.

"Did I ever tell you how we met?"

"No" Winston rumbled, eager to let her continue "but I knew you were friends before you joined Overwatch."

"We met when he saved my life. My parents were killed when the war came to Zurich. I was trapped in the rubble for two days. The last thing I saw of my childhood was their bodies as he carried me out of the ruined apartment. Jack disobeyed orders to find me. If it wasn't for him I wouldn't be here right now. I'd have died with my parents."

Angela drew still for a long while, tears at the corners of her eyes. When she began again, her voice was shaky, uneven.

"He stayed with me, stayed in my life for years after that. Things took a while to settle, took a while to rebuild. Jack was the closest thing I had to a father, even if Overwatch kept him busy. He was there when I was accepted into medical school, there when I published my first paper, performed my first surgery" Mercy's face warmed with a smile for a moment, before she trailed off, gazing at something far away.

Winston's eyes grew with concern, but she continued.

"I hadn't seen him for months. I'd been performing surgeries for years, I knew everything there was to know.

It was a kid. I don't know how old, I don't know where, but they'd… a mine. They'd… I still see their face some nights. Too much blood loss. I did everything I could. I did everything right, but there was just too much blood. The head Nurse kept telling me I did nothing wrong but I, I…

I lost them."

She stopped. The picture fell to the table as she stared at her hands, stared at the bodies only she could see. Winston had heard men die before, but Mercy's silence was more painful than anything he could imagine. All his years of study, all that science taught him left him without any words to offer her.

"I don't know how he found out. I don't know how he got there. But he was there for me, in the lobby. I cried, I begged, I pleaded him never to let me into a hospital again. He sat with me for hours as I fell to pieces like that."

Picking up the photo again, Mercy's gaze shifted to Jack's face.

"And then he helped me put the pieces back together. He told me stories he's never told anyone else. The first time he lost someone in combat, the time he learned to perform a blood transfusion in a foxhole, what it felt like to hold someone as they died. He told me no matter how many people you've lost, how many mistakes you've made, the only way to save more lives is to keep trying. He made me promise him I'd never give up on saving lives.

I'd always known he wanted me to join Overwatch, save the world with him. He'd mentioned all the good they'd done, all the help I could bring. It's funny, though. I worried that joining Overwatch would mean losing myself."

At last, she looked at Winston again with a sad smile.

"Instead it meant finding him."


	2. Take my Breath Away

Mercy continues her story to Winston. We see the friendship between her and Jack deepen as they grow and change.

Author note: _This has some violent stuff in it, including a PTSD flashback and two brief passages of gore. One of the things I struggled with was how to make it so Angela and Jack both need each other, yet neither is a weak, fawning character. Both are strong in their own ways, and Angela is legitimately brilliant, hopefully I can show that._

* * *

It had been a hectic six months since she'd joined Overwatch. Angela's expertise and drive had helped her quickly rise within the Medical Department, and though she was quickly becoming accustomed to combat medicine, she was fortunate enough to have time to perfect her research. Her nanobiology work had progressed to the point where she was willing to submit it for clinical trials at an upcoming conference.

And it was precisely this which was the cause of the current consternation.

"I think I've ironed out the potential mu-3 feedback loop which was causing the synapse failures but I still can't tell why that was an"

"Angela."

"issue in the first place and if there's a further issue with the antibodies at the injection site it could cause the auto-immune respon"

"Angela."

"ses to trigger in ways which I haven't accounte"

"Angela." Jack repeated a third time, setting down the field manual in his hands to look at her, as she paced the small space they shared.

Pausing, she looked up from the bundle of papers in her hand. Her normally pristine hair had taken a frazzled edge with worry as she reviewed her work time and again.

"Angela, you're worrying yourself." Jack said, a patient tone in his voice. The conference was to be held in Tehran, a short 5 hour flight from the base. Overwatch had provided Angela with an autonomous charter jet to make the short hop in the day before the conference, conduct her presentation, and return the day after.

Jack, to the surprise of few but the gentle teasing of many, had insisted on accompanying her. Ostensibly he was there to touch base with a former colleague in the region, but she knew very well he was coming to keep an eye on her.

"That may be right, Jack" she countered "but this isn't bridge demolitions, or whatever is in that rag you're reading. Worrying over the details is important."

"You wound me, Frau Doktor." he said with a mocking smile, touching a hand to his chest.

"That can be arranged!" she laughed, stepping forward to swat at him with her papers as he brought his arms up to protect his face. Her playful fury spent, she resumed her pacing. Though, Jack noted with a pleased eye, less visibly nervous. Keeping his smirk to himself, he turned back to his field manual.

Which, Angela noted as she peeked at him over her papers, was actually on Combat Demolitions of Anti-Tank Obstacles. As she watched the grizzled soldier casually flip a page, a strange feeling came over her. Jack had always been there for her, as someone she could both rely on and look up to, yet his duties to Overwatch meant there was always some distance, no matter how close they became. Since she had joined, however, that distance had all but vanished, and the bond between the two had blossomed into a deep friendship… and perhaps something more? Even now she could see a deep reserve of caring strength in his face, and he was always there to offer a quiet encouragement with her research.

And perhaps the stereotypes of the perfect American farmboy did have some merit in his smile…

With a rush, she caught herself staring. Hiding her blushing cheeks behind her papers, she hoped he hadn't noticed.

"Focus, Angela" she whispered to herself, turning to the pages covering the steps she'd taken to avoid the auto-immune response counteracting the healing process. She decided running through her explanation again would be of some benefit.

And then a cacophony of pressure and heat ended the world.

* * *

She came to in what seemed to be a large clearing in a brooding forest. The jet had come down mostly intact, and its crumpled form lay near one edge of the clearing, its turbines giving off a faint whir as they spooled down. Looking down, she saw she had somehow been strapped into a crash couch. She didn't remember doing that, which meant it must have been…

"…Jack"? She called softly. The crash couch next to her was open, the restraints undone. Fear gripped her as she unbuckled her restraints and slipped out, searching. What if he was somewhere, bleeding or injured, and she couldn't –

"Jack?" she called again, louder this time, then gasped as he popped out from a corner.

"Jack! Are you alright? Is everything okay? Are you injured, are you-"

"I'm fine Angela, trust me." He laughed with a smile incongruous to their straits. "I've had hangovers worse than this mess, I'll be alright."

She looked at him, concern still in her eyes.

"Promise me you're not hiding any injury?"

"I promise I'm not hurt, just a minor case of decapitation."

"That wasn't what I asked, Jack." She shot back, concern mixing with relief that he was still here to make his awful jokes.

"I promise I'm not hiding anything. I'm alright." His easy smile began to work its magic to cheer her up. "Now, what do you say we start figuring out what the hell ha-"

There was a flicker of something in Jack's eyes Angela had rarely seen. "Down!" he hissed, and with startling speed dove to the ground, bringing her with him.

"Jack.. what's happening?", she asked as he scrambled to find his weapon. His only response was a stern glare, finger pressed to his lips. Reaching his rifle at last, he checked the action with slow, deliberate movements then turned to her with four fingers showing. Seeing the confusion on her face, he gestured towards his weapon, then towards the open field behind them. Her face fell as his meaning became clear.

The crash was no accident. Someone was trying to kill them, and they were here to finish the job.

Seeing a hint of panic on her face, Jack pulled her close with a firm hand.

"Angela, listen to me" he began in a quick, low voice. "I need you to stay here, stay low, and do not step out from behind cover. That's an order." There was a hard edge to his voice as he looked her in the eyes for what could be the last time. Turning swiftly, he drew something from his belt and pressed it towards her. It was a cold, oblong thing, and she looked down to see a pistol in her hands.

"Jack, I" she tried to protest. She'd been trained, she'd been forced to train with these things, but she wasn't a soldier, she didn't know how to fight.

Her protests died in her throat when she saw the knife edge in his eyes.

"Do what you have to." He said simply, and slunk away towards the approaching killers.

* * *

She could see them now, four black figures standing out against the tree line. They approached stooped low, in short sprints, one pair pausing with weapons raised as the other moved ahead. To Angela, they seemed for all the world to be playing an overgrown leap-frog, but she knew there was no innocence in their game. Drawing nearer and nearer, she began to see them more clearly, and then with a bolt of fear realized she could not see Jack.

Which, a voice within her hoped, meant that neither could they.

The figures made it as close as a stone's throw away from her. Wordlessly, Jack rose out of nowhere on their flank. Angela's ears rung as he fired two bursts which cracked through the air like thunderclap, punching through the chests of the closest pair. Yet even as they fell, their comrades shouted in alarm and dove to the ground firing. She saw Jack throw himself into the grass as a burst of fire nearly claimed his head, saw him roll and come up firing again. Another two bursts roared, but she saw to her horror that one missed.

Jack's reflexes could not save him. A string of bullets punched into his chest, and he fell with a sickening slump.

She tried to scream, but there was nothing in her lungs. Through burning eyes she watched the killer bolt from the ground over to where Jack lay. He was close, to where she could see the sweat on his face, the burning anger in his eyes, his arrogant features as he leered over his fallen opponent. He slung his rifle, hands reaching for his pistol to deliver the coup de grace.

A primal anger welled up within her, threw her to her feet even as her clumsy hands fumbled at the pistol. With all the strength she could draw from shaking hands, she held her aim true and fired. Once, twice, a dozen times, it did not matter. She did not care. The smell of cordite burned her nose as the firing stopped. Through ringing ears she heard a voice she did not recognize screaming like a wounded, furious animal.

The voice was her own.

Shaking, her breath coming in wretched gasps, she dropped the pistol. She stumbled towards where Jack lay in the grass, and nearly tripped over the killer. She expected to see the man dying, his face pale with the touch of death. Instead she saw a bloody pulp, twitching on the grass.

* * *

She was in Zurich again, and the pieces of her father were staring up at her, telling her she'd failed, she was hopeless, worthless. What was left of her mother was telling her she was an awful, evil child, who should have died years ago. Something without a head kept asking her why she couldn't save him.

As she began to scream, she heard a soft voice call her name from the rubble. Stooping down with lurid motions as the tears rolled down her face, she saw a little boy caught beneath the debris. With frantic, bleeding hands she freed him, and he called her name again.

"Angela" his soft voice repeated, and he smiled, eyes lighting up in a way… she… she knew.

Jack.

* * *

"Angela, can you hear me?!" his voice again, urgent now.

She was curled into a ball on the grass, thankfully turned away from the sight.

"J.. jack. Jack where are you?" she spluttered, trying to stand and struggling to hold down her bile.

She jumped as firm hands gripped her shoulders, then Jack's face appeared before her.

"Angela, you… you saved my life."

He staggered for a moment as she collapsed into his arms, then caught himself.

"Easy, there, easy. You're okay. Deep breaths Angela, deep breaths. It's the adrenaline wearing off, you're gonna be okay." He whispered to her, as soothing as he could be. Seconds passed like ages as the raw emotion poured between then, Jack offering what little he could as relief and shock overwhelmed her. As her breathing steadied and composure returned, she stepped back to look at him.

"Jack, you're alive! I thought he, you were" she pressed a hand to his chest and he winched as it came back wet with blood.

"The plates took most of it, but there was some spalling. Mostly just surface cuts, maybe a cracked rib" he spit out between gritted teeth. At last, he grinned with a pained smile. "What do you say, Frau Doktor? Think you could spare me a bandage?"

Despite it all, Angela found herself overcome with laughter as fraught nerves began to ease. The two made their ginger way to the wreckage, before she eased him into a seated position. Retrieving a combat first aid kit, she began her delicate work, sealing his wounds under layers of bandage.

She worked in silence for a long while before speaking a single word.

"Why?"

"Hmm?" Jack turned his head from the field to look at her in confusion, curiosity in his voice. "Why what?"

"Why can you…" she paused, for the words did not come easily. "Why can you kill so easily?"

At this he looked away with a sigh that spoke of his years.

"For some its easy. The first time is always hard, but then its… it's just part of the job."

"But you don't hesitate. You don't hold anything back." she countered "They could have just as easily killed you, why didn't you-"

"That's what a soldier does. I do what I must to protect others. If that" he hissed in pain for a moment as she tightened a bandage which had wiggled loose "if that means putting myself at risk… so be it."

"Please, Jack" she pleaded with a deep sadness in her voice "Please promise me something."

The look he gave her told her she could ask for anything.

"Please promise me you won't get yourself killed, that you won't throw your life away. I don't ever want to lose you."

Her heart caught in her throat as his eyes seemed to go distant for a moment, before they returned to meet hers.

"I promise you then, Angela. You won't ever lose me."

She looked at him for a long while, and then nodded. Finishing the last bandage with ginger care, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her face against his. Embracing the gesture, he wrapped his arm around her in return. There was, she realized in a warm glow, no place in the world she'd rather be than in his arms.

* * *

The rescue team found them hours later, sheltered from a soft rain beneath the crumbled jet, still drawing each other close.

* * *

 _Author's post script, since I didn't want to spoil this: Jack is a Soldier. Killing is part of his duty, part of his life. Angela is not, she abhors violence and is scarred by what it has done to her. (As is Jack, but in different ways). I wanted to justify how two people, one who believes violence is necessary, and another who believes it never is, can grow so close. Ultimate, though they do not agree, their bond is strong enough to overcome that._


	3. Flower of the Desert

Mercy continues her story for Winston.

Author note: _this was a fun section to write._

* * *

"After that night, things had changed between us. I'd obviously respected and trusted Jack before, and I always depended on him. But he began to show me a part of himself that he did not show others. We both knew the friendship between us was growing into something deeper."

"I never could find the words to say what it was we were. Part of me thinks he was afraid to."

She looked up at Winston with a beaming smile.

"Until Casablanca. Do you remember Casablanca, Winston? That was the happiest moment of my life. The stars that night – "

* * *

"- are beautiful, Jack. How did you find this place?"

Jack smiled to himself. He knew Angela had spent most of her life in the city, where the chance to see the stars through a clear night sky were rare. An old friend had told him about an oasis-turned-garden outside the city, had given him the access code for after it had closed, saying it made quite the romantic view.

The team's visit to Casablanca had been something of a whirlwind tour through the ancient port city, leading up to a banquet in their honor. With the ceremonies complete, they'd been granted the next two days as well earned R&R. Angela and Jack had not taken long to slip away into the city, and they had spent the day soaking in Casablanca's history and culture. As the day drew to a close, the pair stood together, leaning onto a garden balcony in the desert night.

Mercy had spent the last 5 minutes in delight over the stars, face glowing with wonder as the heavens opened up above her like never before.

"Friend of a friend" he chuckled "who was never as good at cards as he thought he was. See that?" he gestured towards the brightest star.

"Polaris, the Northern star. Right next to it is Ursa Minor the-"

"The little bear?"

Jack smiled again.

"That's right. See those three stars in a row down there? That's Orion's belt. They call it _Alnilam_ in Arabic, "string of pearls." We'd always look at those when we were kids, since they're so easy to find. We learned all this stuff as part of our training, too. No matter what happens you'll always have the stars."

"Jack…"

He turned to see her looking at him, and swore he could see heaven glittering in her striking blue eyes.

"… this is the happiest I've been in years."

Words failed him as his heart caught in his throat. He settled for wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. With a soft sigh she melted into his side, and the two spent a long moment in the warmth of each other's presence. The garden's leaves whispered in the soft coastal breeze as the stars held lofty council overhead.

"Do you ever think about peace, Angela? What it'll be like when this is all over?"

She looked at him with curious eyes for a moment, then turned back to face the stars.

"I hope for it every day, Jack. Someday I'd like to return to Zurich, help it grow again. Since I was a little girl I'd dreamed of raising a family of my own there, visiting Lake Zurich with my children."

Jack's only response was something of a wistful smile as he stared into the distance.

"What about you, then?" she asked, something serious to her voice.

"I.. I don't know. I've been fighting for so long I.. I don't know what peace would be like." The uncertainty in his voice caught her off guard.

"I'm a Soldier, Angela. Fighting is what I do. I know it works towards a better world, but I never thought about what that world would be like. I… I never thought I'd be there for that world."

Jack could tell she was trying not to worry over what he'd said, but he knew her too well for her to hide it. He could see it in her eyes. He knew she wanted peace more than anyone else, wanted it for herself, for her friends and for the world.

"How can you be happy, then? If all you know is fighting, is dying, if you never have peace?"

He realized now she wanted peace for him as well, him more than anyone else.

Jack looked into the empty desert for a long while, before seeming to steel himself for a decision.

"Angela… I don't know what peace means for me. I don't know what that world has in store for me."

Blue eyes met hers in the night as she hung on his every word.

"So long as I have you, my Angel, I will be happy, come what may."

Something seemed to shift in her eyes, struck by what she had heard. She replied with tender smile.

"Then so long as I have you, my Hero, so will I."

"I love you, Angela."

"I love you, Jack."

* * *

Beneath the peaceful stars, two lovers kissed at last.


	4. Solemn Vigil

Mercy seeks a quiet moment to mourn the man she'd lost.

Author note: _No gore or anything here. Just solemn peace. This was actually the first chapter I wrote, oddly._

* * *

Finishing her story, Mercy fell silent. Gazing at the picture again, the stillness between them grew, before Mercy looked up at her simian friend with a smile.

"Thank you, Winston, perhaps that did help. If you don't mind, I would like to turn in for the night."

With an understanding nod, he stood to let her leave.

* * *

Her feet knowing where to take her, Mercy thanked Winston one last time and traced her way to a secluded corner of the base. Memorials to fallen Overwatch heroes dotted the globe, but here was something the team had as their own. Over the years, names and pictures had gathered here, never officially, never publicly. The team preserved it as a quiet place, where they could mourn lost friends; a few small candles bearing witness to today's reverence.

Given the hour, Mercy expected to be alone, but the soft light revealed a figure seated near the memorials. Easing onto the bench, she found herself across from the glowing visor of Soldier 76. Silently turning to her by way of greeting, he turned back to his vigil.

As the stillness grew, she followed his gaze to a picture on the wall, one she realized she herself had placed. It was of an awards ceremony, where Commander Morrison was being commended for valor in battle. She was near him in the picture, face lit with pride. She remembered the ceremony, remembered the party the team was able to attend, the well-earned rest, the chance to spend the evening with Jack.

With weary sigh, she brought herself to the present.

"Did you know him?" She asked the stranger beside her, trying to read some emotion behind his visor.

"Commander Morrison?" came the rumble from behind his mask. "No. I never had the chance."

"He was an inspiration to us all." He added, filling the silence.

"He was a hero." Angela murmured, her voice weak. Hearing the tremor in her voice, the figure stirred, and Mercy felt the gentle presence of a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Doctor Ziegler." The warmth in his voice caught her off guard. He moved away, kneeling to light a candle. Finishing, he stood to survey the memorials to the fallen.

"I'm afraid it never gets any easier. He was a great man. Truly, I am sorry." With gentle compassion in his voice, Soldier 76 turned to place a brief hand on her shoulder again, before stepping silently away.

Mercy waited until his footsteps receded around the corner, pondering the lone candle the stranger had left. She glanced at Jack's picture on the wall, the picture she had placed years ago.

"No…" she said with a somber voice, kneeling to light her own candle. "it never does get easier." As Angela's soft footsteps trailed into the night, her candle burned gently next to the solemn soldier's.

Somehow, it felt right.


	5. Another Mission Gone to Hell

The Overwatch team races to stop Talon activities.

 _Author's note: this includes swearing and firefights, since it's from Soldier: 76's perspective and, well, that's what his character is._

* * *

All in all, it was another mission gone to hell.

At least it started well, Soldier 76 mused. A simple sweep and clear operation, local police tried to bust a weapon smuggling ring, called in for backup when they discovered automatic weapons fire goes both ways. Intel suggested Talon activity, a strike team was scrambled, and then the other shoe dropped.

Nerve Gas.

Shit.

Soldier 76 remembered his training, years ago in the Army. He remembered a grizzled combat veteran with fear in his eyes, describing bodies wracked by spasming convulsions as they choked on their own tongues, the surreal feeling of a city where everyone simply died, no guns, no bullets, no explosions, just a silent, creeping death.

They had antidotes, of course. As he pounded down a deserted street towards his objective, his hands absentmindedly brushed against the bright red pouch by his right thigh, where an automatic injector was the only thing standing between him and death if Talon should set off their weapons. But even the newest antidotes were likely to leave you in a coma when used.

100 meters. Two blocks from the target. Pulse Rifle shouldered and sweeping for threats, Soldier 76 heard the noises of battle as the rest of the team hit their separate targets. There'd been too many targets, too little time to stick together, too much at risk to neglect any of them. He was on his own. Catching sight of a shuttered café with Talon operatives surrounding it, he ducked behind a van and keyed in to the team's frequency.

"76 here. I see my target. Moving in."

Spitting out a burst of Helix Rockets, he dashed from the van, his Pulse Rifle up and tracking.

A Talon operative rolled away from the rockets, bringing a machine gun to bear. 76's weapon spat, and he fell. Another came from the door, stopped in his tracks as a burst ripped out his chest. Pausing to reload, 76 saw that the outside was clear, before a staccato string of fire from the windows ripped overhead. Cursing the near miss, he threw himself behind a low wall. Clicking on his visor, he rose from cover.

A ripple of fire, and the near miss was lethally repaid. Another, and an RPG clattered to the ground, unfired. A third, and the café fell silent.

"76 here, on the objective. Clearing the building now." He keyed in again, setting breaching charges on the door.

 _Door breached._

 _Weapon up, in the door, through the door. Door clear._

 _Hostile, pistol – fire, fire, fire, down. Entry clear._

 _Opposite corner, far corner, near corner. Corners clear._

 _Object, far side wall. Downed hostile, moving. Reaching, fire, reaching, detonator – shit._

 _Shit._

* * *

Soldier 76's last sensation was the antidote stabbing into his thigh as his world shrunk to nothing.


	6. Fated Reunion

The team returns, their mission successful, but at a price. Soldier: 76 survived his exposure, but will he be able to recover? (The answer is yes.)

 _Author note: Fluff ahoy!_

* * *

"You're sure he will be alright, Doctor Ziegler?"

It was Winston this time, last in a long line of worried questions about their newest team member. Soldier: 76 lay between Overwatch's commander and Mercy on the med-bay bed, unmoving save his slow breathing.

"I am quite sure. The antidote worked, thankfully, and it was a minor exposure. I have confirmed his nervous system is working. His unconscious state is merely a side effect of the healing process. I'll take him out of it later tonight. He will be fine, I assure you of that fact."

For a moment, Mercy's blue eyes met with the Gorilla's, professional pride evident in her voice, as if she was offended by the thought that any harm could come to a patient in *her* care.

Winston was taken aback for a moment, before nodding his assent.

"I wouldn't doubt you for a moment, Mercy. If there's nothing else you need, I suppose I will turn in for the night." Turning his head over his massive shoulder to look at the silent base, he continued. "It certainly seems as if the others have done the same. With any luck, I shall see you both in the morning. Good luck and good night, Doctor."

With that, he turned away, leaving Mercy alone with her patient. As the hours passed, she busied herself with the instruments monitoring his health, as she prepared to bring him from his medically induced coma. Mercy had long since doffed her Valkyrie suit in favor of the more comfortable bodyglove alone. The med-bay's soft lights gave her blonde hair a radiant shine as she scrolled through the PDA containing Soldier: 76's medical data.

 _What little of it there was_ , she mused with a mental sigh.

 _I'd managed to get everyone, regrettably including Junkrat, to cooperate on this. In order to provide the best medical care that I can, I must have the opportunity to perform examinations and measurements. But no matter how many times I ask, no matter how well I argue my case, he refuses! It is as if he is hiding something._

She looked down at the stranger there before her. He still wore much of his combat equipment; the only concession to his injured state was his jacket lying in the corner, so that a simple IV could run to his arm. Much of his face was hidden behind the harsh metal of his tactical visor, and what little of it lay exposed was deeply weathered by scars and care. Mercy had toyed with the idea of removing the visor, but a feeling she couldn't place had stayed her hand. As it was, she took the chance to gather valuable information about the man. With information about his blood type, his physiology, his immune response, she could better tailor her technology to heal him.

 _Now if only this verdamnt blood data would sort itself out. The system keeps telling me it has already logged this data, but that's impossible. He's been dead for years."  
_

Frowning in concentration, she picked out the signal she'd been looking for. Steady hands began the procedure to wake the stranger in her care. Caught for a moment in the pleasant concentration of her work, she did not notice him begin to move.

"A-angel…"

She froze.

Mercy's pulse quickened as her heart caught in her throat. Something between hope and fear welled up in her chest and rooted her to the spot. With all the courage she could muster, she turned, turned to see unsteady hands reaching for his visor, turned to see the grizzled face of the man she'd lost, turned to meet the eyes of the man she loved.

"J..jack?"

He couldn't think right. There was something in his head, turning his thoughts to mud. He knew there was something he couldn't tell her, but there she was. Angela. His Angela, his Angel, and something was wrong. She was crying, he was here for her now, he had to help her.

"Angela, you're.. you're crying? What's wrong? Is someth-"

The realization of what he'd done fell upon him with a sinking weight.

"Oh.. oh God.. I'm sorry, Angela, I didn't mean"

Words failed him completely as she embraced him. She drew herself into his chest, buried her tears of pain and loss in the safety of his touch. She was a little girl in Zurich again, clinging to her Hero, what felt like an eternity of relief. He wrapped his arms around her knowingly, she was safe. She was safe, she was home.

With tender care, he kissed her forehead, the way he always had, the way that sent a warm glow down her back. Blue, tear streaked eyes met his at last, a gentle hand brushing her cheek as her body wrapped around his.

"I'm sorry, Angela. Truly, I am... all these years, I failed you."

Mercy's smile caught him off guard, as joyful words poured out.

"Jack, you came back. You promised me I'd never lose you, and now you're here, you're here with me. That's all I could have ever asked for."

Tender lips met his as years of agony flowed away. His fear, his pain, his loss, burned like chaff in the flame of her embrace. A blissful moment, then they parted. A deep peace washed over them both, their eyes meeting yet again.

"I love you, Jack. I always have, I always will."

"I love you too, my Angel, and I always will."

Mercy breathed a contented sigh, a languid arm flicking the remote to dim the lights. The tension easing out of his body, Jack lay back against the pillows, Angela's head soft against his chest. Their hands met as they lay there, wrapped in each other's love, drifting blissfully to sleep.


	7. Pure Fluff

Winston seeks to check in on Mercy and the patient in her care. What he discovers will shock the world. (It won't.)

Author note: _I imagine Winston and Zarya having a very good platonic friendship, him so eager to learn, her bearing within her the history and culture of the Russian people. Also Winston is very fun to write._

* * *

It was a peaceful night in the base. The team was asleep, the halls quiet, the day's work done. Adjusting his glasses with a colossal hand, Winston looked up from his book, eyes keen to hear anything from the medical bay. Meeting only silence, he turned back to his paper delight; a copy of _Brothers Karamazov_ in the original Russian, loaned to him by Zarya. The pages were well worn, and he often found annotations she had left. He always enjoyed these; many an afternoon was spent wrapped in the discussions they'd sparked. Idly marking an interesting passage, Winston reached for his stylus on the desk.

Or was it on the table?

By the door?

"Oh." Winston let out a flat sigh. The med-bay; he'd set it down when checking on Mercy and Soldier: 76. As he stood up from his desk, being sure to mark his page, his eyes glanced at the clock. It was, he supposed, getting late. Perhaps best to set down the book, retrieve his stylus, be sure 76's procedure had gone well, and get some sleep.

And, he chuckled to himself, if a banana strayed across his path as he walked through the kitchen, no one would have to know.

As he wandered out of the kitchen, stylus perched as it had been delicately behind his ear and banana in hand, he caught sight of the med-bay, seemingly deserted and with lights off.

Strange, he hadn't heard either Soldier: 76 or Mercy leave.

Curiosity piqued, he made his way to the med-bay in the name of stylus and science.

Winston stepped inside, eyes shifting to pierce the gentle darkness. For a moment he reached for the light switch, before stopping himself.

He made out two figures upon the bed, fast asleep in each other's arms. Mercy's golden hair shone in the gloom, framing the soft lines of her face resting peacefully on the other's chest. A gentle hand rested on her back, holding her close as she nestled into his embrace. And there, with the peace of one brought back to life, was Jack Morrison, in the arms of his angel.

Overcome by a wondering smile, Winston stared in awe, before turning to leave. In the tender stillness of the night, two reunited lovers slept, undisturbed.


End file.
